


Fucking Miles Off the Pace

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Excessive Amounts of Orgasms, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers to Boyfriends, M/M, PWP, Podfic Welcome, Ryan is a Fuck Machine, handjobs, porn without plot/plot what plot, unrealistic refractory periods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Ryan just keeps going, and going, and going—and Shane is the one who has to weather it.





	Fucking Miles Off the Pace

**Author's Note:**

> so! i'm about to go on vacation for 10 days and won't be able to post fic that entire time, and i wanted to get 1 scavenger fic posted before i left! so this fills the prompt, a bit unconventionally, for fucking machine. 
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing! 
> 
> enjoy!

Shane groans as he flops onto his back on the bed. “Enough,” he mumbles, pushing at Ryan’s eager hands roaming over his body. Shane’s too hot and too cold at the same time: warmed up from two and a half rounds of sex, and cooling rapidly because of the sweat on his skin. Ryan pressed close to him between his thighs isn’t helping matters.

Ryan stops touching him but doesn’t move from his spot, caged by Shane’s legs. “You okay?” He leans forward with concern.

“Fuck.” Shane’s eyes flutter shut. The motion, however slight or well-intentioned, has sparks of overwhelming, almost _painful_ pleasure licking up his spine. As Ryan leans forward, he presses deeper into Shane’s body.

“You’re a dick,” Shane says. When he manages to crack an eye open, Ryan’s looking back at him, confused. “Hurry up and finish.”

“That’s really sexy,” Ryan mocks. “That’s totally gonna get me off—oh _shit_.”

Even though his body is exhausted, Shane clenches down on Ryan and draws the curse from his lips. “Hurry up and fucking come inside me, Bergara, before you miss your chance.”

Ryan’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open as his hips snap forward a final time before he spills deep inside Shane. His fingers flex on Shane’s hips and he only lets go once his hips have stopped jerking in and out of Shane’s overwrought body. “Fuck,” Ryan says, like a low whistle.

“Yep, we sure did,” Shane says before kneeing Ryan in the side. “Now, out.”

Ryan shuffles backward and his softening cock slips from Shane’s abused hole. “Out?”

“Oh for the love of—I just wanted your dick out of my ass.” Shane, with arms that feel like noodles, reaches for Ryan and hauls him close. They fall together on the bed in a tangle of limbs. “I didn’t mean _leave_ , idiot.”

“Hey,” Ryan snaps, indignant even as his eyes start to close. Typical. “You’re hard to read.”

Shane shakes his head. “I’m not kicking you out when you’ve just had your cock in me for,” Shane pauses to check the time, “for the better part of two hours.”

Ryan grins sheepishly. “S’good,” he slurs, drunk on lust and probably about to fall asleep.

“I hate you,” Shane says fondly.

 

 

 

The thing is, Shane’s not getting any younger.

Neither is Ryan, of course, but you’d never guess that from his libido. Ryan has always had excess energy, but Shane never thought about just how much it translates to the bedroom. At first it was good— _great_ , even. Constant fucking, like rabbits but even _better_ ; it was fun, for a while. Up until Shane realized this wasn’t some honeymoon phase. Once Shane realized this wasn’t “we’re so into each other we’ll do anything to fuck, anytime and anywhere” banging and instead just “this is how Ryan _always_ is” banging, he kind of wanted to die.

Because Ryan just… never stops. He’s the god damn energizer bunny. He’s either constantly talking or pacing or playing around or _fucking_. Fucking _Shane_ , specifically.  

It’s _exhausting_.

And it’s not like Ryan’s forceful about it or anything. He’s more than happy to take himself to the bathroom and jerk off, or on the couch, or somewhere outside of Shane’s general vicinity. That’s the kicker—Ryan is perfectly fine with getting himself off, no effort from Shane required. The bitch of it all is that Shane _wants_ to help him, _wants_ to get him off as much as he can stand. Part of it is pure basic desire, the sheer force of attraction Shane feels for Ryan.

Part of it is probably, y’know, _love_ , or something. But that’s a part Shane is trying to ignore for now. Because it’s still early on in their relationship, and things still feel tender at times, and the last thing Shane wants is to send Ryan—and his laugh, his heart, his dick, his everything—running for the hills.

It’s just… Shane is so fucking tired.

So.

Fucking.

Tired.

 

 

 

Shane doesn’t protest as Ryan crowds him into the hotel room, up against the door they slammed in TJ’s face. It’s abundantly clear what they’re about to do, but Shane can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed. Hell, he can’t even bring himself to be irritated, even knowing that Ryan’s going to milk him for all he’s worth and leave Shane on the brink of _too much_.

Shane winds his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and kisses him soundly. Ryan moans eagerly into the kiss and pushes his hips against Shane’s, jeans to chinos and cock against cock.

“Wanna touch you,” Ryan murmurs. His hand is already drifting to the waistband of Shane’s jeans.

That’s the other thing, Shane thinks as his head falls back and _thuds_ against the hotel door. Ryan is a considerate lover, eager to please and desperate to make Shane come, too. Ryan seldom puts his own pleasure first, aside from drawing out their sex from minutes into hours. Ryan will take Shane apart and put him back together again while barely considering his own pleasure, like it’s an afterthought.

Shane gives a full body shudder when Ryan’s calloused fingers curl around his cock, dry. “Ry,” he pants, bucking into his grasp. “Fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ryan mumbles. He pulls his hand back and licks across the palm before returning to his task. It’s a tight fit with his hand shoved in Shane’s chinos, but his touch is skilled and quick and Shane swears, no one has ever gotten him off as fast or as _good_ as Ryan. Even just handjobs are mind-blowingly good with Ryan, because he grunts and whines and hisses and says all sorts of filthy things to Shane while he strokes.

“Ryan,” Shane moans softly. He’s keenly aware of the door at his back and how thin it is, how little separates him from the hallway outside.

“Wanna fuck you, Shane. Wanna throw your legs over my shoulders and fuck you so bad.” Ryan grinds against Shane’s hip. “Can I?”

“Did you—did you bring lube?” Shane asks, somewhat incredulous. He really shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not the first time they’ve fucked after filming at a location, and it certainly won’t be the last. Plus, Ryan always plans ahead, including this. “Who am I kidding, of course you did.”

Ryan grins and leans up to kiss Shane again. “Yeah?” He strokes Shane root to tip, and it feels almost like bribery.

Shane groans into the kiss. “Yeah, okay, c’mon.”

 

“What happened to you?” TJ asks the next morning as they’re trudging through the airport toward their plane home. Ryan’s a few feet ahead, chattering animatedly about sports with Mark, who looks bored but is listening politely.

Shane winces as he walks. “A hurricane named Ryan Bergara.”

TJ raises an amused eyebrow.

“You don’t wanna know,” Shane says, because honestly, he’s trying not to think about his own two orgasms and Ryan’s four, all of which had kept them up for far too long. “You really don’t.”

TJ laughs and claps Shane on the shoulder. “Ah, young love,” he teases, and Shane wishes it were that easy.

 

 

 

Shane’s catching his breath, chin tilted towards his chest, when he sees it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Shane hisses. “Are you _possessed_?”

“Huh?” Ryan blinks and the glassy fog fades from his eyes. “What?”

“You’re still hard,” Shane says in a voice thick with disbelief. His own cock is soft and slipping from inside Ryan. Ryan’s cock, however, is firm and at attention and flushed deep red—despite the three orgasms Ryan’s already had. One in the shower on his own (which Shane only knows about because he _told_ Ryan to do it, to burn off some excess energy), one under Shane’s watchful eye, and one with Shane’s dick spearing him open.

And yet.

_And yet._

“I’ll take care of it,” Ryan says. He reaches down and takes his cock in hand. “Just, sit there and look pretty like you normally do.”

Shane squawks and bats Ryan’s hand away. “Fuck you,” he says before scrambling back to take Ryan’s cock between his lips. Ryan hisses and thrusts up into Shane’s mouth. Shane gags slightly but that only seems to spur Ryan on. Each time the tip of Ryan’s dick hits the back of Shane’s throat, he half-coughs, half-moans, and Ryan lets out a guttural grunt. Ryan knots a hand in Shane’s hair and holds him still as he fucks into the wet heat, until tears are pricking at the corners of Shane’s eyes and come is filling his mouth.

Shane rears back coughing, come dripping from his lips. “Christ, Ryan.”

Ryan shrugs. “Sorry.”

Shane looks down cautiously and swallows his sigh of relief—and, ugh, come, gross, _salty_ —to see Ryan’s cock going limp against his thigh. “Thank fucking god.”

 

 

 

Shane almost doesn’t notice, and he feels bad for that.

It’s a subtle thing, somehow. A minute change that flies under the radar, or at least under Shane’s radar. He attributes his obliviousness to just the sheer relief of no longer fucking for _hours_ , and instead fucking for a much more normal span of, well, _not hours_. He reaches for Ryan sometimes, after they’ve both come, and doesn’t protest when Ryan pushes his hand away.

Really, Shane probably could’ve carried on like that, content and pretty oblivious, had Ryan also not started pulling away emotionally, too. Ryan’s not subtle about that at all, and Shane doesn’t know whether it’s by design or unintentional, but he _does_ know that something’s wrong.

 

“What’s up with you?” Shane asks.

Ryan blinks. “What?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Ryan looks guilty, at least.

“So I’ll ask again, what’s up with you?”

Ryan shrugs. “Just, nothing. We’ve been busy.”

Shane tilts his head back and counts down from ten. “We really, really haven’t.”

“Kinda,” Ryan tries.

“Dude.” Shane’s voice softens. “Did I do something? Is it—is it something with us?” They haven’t put a label on what they are—ghoulboys, sure, ghoulfriends even, but nothing more than that. Nothing more than ghoulfriends who fuck regularly, thoroughly. Shane’s been meaning to bring it up.

Ryan bites his lip. “You just—I know I’m a lot, and you seemed like… You were getting tired.”

Shane blinks and stares aghast. “Not of _you_.”

And god, Shane _hates_ how tentatively hopeful Ryan looks; he’s _really_ fucked up.

“I’m not tired of you, Ryan, _shit_.” Shane reaches for Ryan and pulls him into a hug. He tucks his chin on top of Ryan’s head and speaks into the ruffled hair. “You’re just so fucking horny, all the time.”

Ryan’s laugh against Shane’s neck is wet. “What?”

“You’re so fucking horny, dude. All the time. I’m too old for this shit, I can’t keep up. You’re gonna kill me with sex.”

Ryan pulls away from the hug laughing. “Seriously?”

“Not all of us are still in our twenties,” Shane says. “Some of us have matured beyond being able to get it up four times in a row.”

Ryan blushes deeply and kicks lightly at Shane’s shin. “That’s it, though? It’s not—?”

“It’s not,” Shane confirms, before dipping to kiss Ryan. It’s chaste and soft, tender, delicate.

“I can try and tone it down a bit,” Ryan says apologetically.

“I like helping you out.” Shane waggles his eyebrows. “After the hour mark or so, I’m just running on fumes. You are, quite literally, a _fucking machine_.”

Ryan snickers. “Don’t worry, old man. We’ll figure it out.”

Shane grins and kisses Ryan again.

 

 

 

Shane whines as hands land gently on his back. He lets himself be rolled onto his side, lets Ryan part his cheeks to expose his still-slick hole, lets Ryan slip into him in one fluid motion. Shane shudders as his body tries to protest, clenching down to keep Ryan out; his own cock doesn’t even twitch, too spent from their earlier round.

Ryan kisses the dip between neck and shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers, and Shane’s body melts enough to let Ryan in to the hilt. “Love how you take my cock, you feel so fucking good.”

Shane hums and rolls his hips back against Ryan. “Ry,” he mumbles.

“Won’t take long,” Ryan promises.

“Sure as shit hope not,” Shane manages to say. “This is, what, number six?”

Ryan laughs and bites at Shane’s neck as his thrusts pick up in speed. “You just take it so well, Shane, I can’t resist.”

Shane hates how the words get to him, how his dick tries to swell but just simply can’t. He still feels the swirling heat in his gut and along his spine and every word tumbling from Ryan’s over eager mouth is an electric shot to Shane’s arousal.

“Love being inside you Shane, love listening to you.”

Shane whines. “C’mon, Ryan, do it.”

Ryan nods against the back of Shane’s neck. “I’m close.”

Shane reaches back and grips Ryan’s thigh. “Fucking do it,” he pleads. “You want it so bad, give it to me, Ryan.” He can’t bring himself to clench down—a surefire way to get Ryan to the brink or over it—but he doesn’t need to.

Ryan’s moan is choked and loud and his hips slam forward hard enough to roll Shane onto his front. Ryan rolls with him and immediately pounds into him, pressing him against the bed. It’s reckless and with abandon and the friction of the sheets on Shane’s dick is _too much too much too much_ but so fucking good.

Shane bites into the pillow as he comes, soft and almost dry, to muffle his cry. Ryan’s grunting above him and fucking into him and coming, deep and hot. Shane whines again at the sensation and Ryan coos soft, mindless things until his hips slow.

Ryan kisses the top knob of Shane’s spine.

“You’re a menace,” Shane sighs. He doesn’t need to look back to know Ryan’s smirking dopily.

“You love it,” Ryan says with another kiss. “Your boyfriend is a _fuck-machine_ , and you love it.”

Shane shakes his head, rubbing his face against the cooler fabric of the pillow. “God help me, I do.”

Ryan pulls out slowly and pats Shane’s ass gently.

“Clean me up,” Shane says as Ryan clambers off the bed. “Asshole.”

Ryan scoffs, but when he comes back to the bedroom, he’s got a warm washcloth in hand. “You good?” He asks as he wipes Shane down, rolling him over to wipe at his stomach.

“Uh huh,” Shane says, already starting to doze off. “You?”

Ryan’s grin is toothy and sweet. “Yeah. Thanks.” He tosses the cloth towards the hamper before curling around Shane like an octopus. He nuzzles against Shane’s neck. “I really do love you, y’know.”

A million sarcastic responses sit on Shane’s tongue but he swallows them all. He melts into Ryan’s arms, content and warm and tired. “Back atcha, little guy.”


End file.
